


Each One Perform Some Part

by phnelt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Hiking, M/M, Post-CACW, Post-Mission, War Songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: “Maybe it’ll be just like camping,” Sam said, dryly as he and Steve both looked out at the expanse of Croatian forest in front of them. They were near the top of the ridge, an expanse of evergreen trees and sharp crags laid out in all directions.





	Each One Perform Some Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvereye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvereye/gifts).



> Written for Silvereye for MCU Exchange, who requested Sam and Steve having a quiet and kind moment.
> 
> Huge thanks to Meatball42 for amazing beta in my hour of need.

“Maybe it’ll be just like camping,” Sam said, dryly as he and Steve both looked out at the expanse of Croatian forest in front of them. They were near the top of the ridge, an expanse of evergreen trees and sharp crags laid out in all directions. Steve’s eyes followed the outline of a criss-crossing river, perfectly green and clear, waterfall after waterfall swelling its banks as it winds through the mountain. 

Steve stared grimly at the rolling hills. Camping was something the Boy Scouts did while they were being indoctrinated into good little soldiers. Steve had never been a Boy Scout. What he and Sam were going to do was what Boy Scout camping prepared you for: a forced march. And that was something Steve was pretty experienced with. It wasn’t much fun though. Steve didn’t believe that camping was much fun either; it seemed like one of those lies people said to make you do things that ‘built character.’ Well Steve had always been told he was quite a character already, mostly by a succession of nuns and commanding officers.

All this, and the day had started out so promisingly. Steve, Sam, and Natasha had been seeking and destroying Hydra caches all around the former Soviet bloc, sometimes with Wanda, sometimes without. Most of them were supposedly derelict KGB rendition locations, or SHIELD black sites. Hydra didn’t have bases of its own, it just twisted what was already there. That just made it easier since Natasha knew her way around most of them, and the rest seemed to be built to a plan. The triumph of the factory system; replicated pieces build to a mould. Makes them easy to build up, easy to knock down. 

They had developed their own system for it. Sam was an expert at jumping out of all sorts of planes, so he could get them in. Steve was the hitter, so he could get them through, and there wasn’t a place you could keep Natasha in so she was responsible for getting them out. Each base was the same as the next and they were getting very efficient at it. 

Except today. Nat had recognised a friend who’d been undercover with AIM. Turned out he hadn’t been able to come in from the cold, what with SHIELD no longer existing. That left him stranded -- every handler he knew potentially compromised, except Nat. He’d been waiting for his moment and today had been his chance.

Steve wondered how many people had been caught up or cut off when the Helicarriers crashed into the Potomac. Things don’t just happen once, Steve has learned, things happen and then they ripple out as far as the eye can see.

But at least they’d gotten their man out, even though it meant that Steve and Sam had missed their evac. One of the harder parts of being an internationally wanted fugitive was that there was no backup. He used to just be able to pick up his Starkphone and make a call. Not anymore. Now they were going to have to get themselves miles away, to a safe location where Nat could come back with their stolen Quinjet. 

He realised that Sam was still staring at him while Steve was just staring out at the Croatian Alps. He could probably pass that off as thinking about their route instead of some fatalistic thoughts about the sorry state of international relations. What had they been talking about? Oh, right, camping.

“You like camping?” Steve asked.

“I’ve never been, but one of my exes was a Burner,” Steve assumed that was some sort of slang for camping, though it could be video games, “and,” Sam hesitated, but then continued, “Riley swore by his annual family camping trip to Ludington, Michigan. Claimed it was all sorts of fun” Steve snorted a little. “Yeah, my reaction exactly.”

Steve wasn’t sure if Sam paused before he mentioned Riley because it was still hard for him to talk about, or because they’d had that in common, dead best friends, and now Bucky wasn’t dead, just frozen away from the rest of the world like Snow White. But Sam had never seemed to resent him and Steve needed to remind himself to trust that.  _ Not everything is about you,  _ Tony had said. Steve shook his head at himself.

Steve thinks about saying something, and Sam must see that he’s concerned because he says, “Don’t worry about my camping skills. I passed my SERE; I am fully certified to survive this wilderness and evade capture for days on end and  _ still  _ give nothing away but my name, rank, and serial number, don’t you worry.” This says something about them, that when faced with the low risk of a day’s walk along a springtime mountain range -- probably no backup is coming -- that Steve’s first thought is ‘forced march’ and Sam’s first thought is some sort of commando training. But also, Steve didn’t want to hear Sam joke about getting tortured.

Sam seemed to realise that Steve wasn’t going to laugh and looked at him slightly puzzled. Steve just shrugged.

They’ve been stalling for too long already. Steve stepped forward and Sam fell in behind him.

They followed the path of the sun. They had water, so Steve wasn’t too worried, and some science-crafted protein-intensive granola bars. Shelter was going to be something of a problem, but the weather was good and with luck that would hold.

They passed the first hour in silence, listening for pursuit far beyond the range of the smoke. Walking gave you a lot of time to think. Which was fine. Steve could sit with his thoughts, no issue.

It was excruciating. By hour two Steve was crawling out of his skin with boredom.

The weight of his uniform felt wrong, uneven with his guns and no shield. And the air smelled earthy with a hint of pine, familiar from marches on the other side of the Alps. “Sam, you know any walking songs?” He’d try anything.

Sam made a considering noise. “I’ve got two nieces in the Girl Scouts, last I got an update, and I know the Ants Go Marching Home? It’s a kid’s song.” 

Steve did not know that one, so he asked, “Sing it for me?” 

“This is a silly song for kids,” Sam warned, “so don’t go judging.”  
  
Steve said, “Do I ever?” Dry as a bone and got rewarded with a surprised bark of laughter from Sam. He smiled, but then he promised not to laugh.  
  
“Cross your heart?”  
  
Steve turned around and performed the requisite gesture.  
  
“Alright, fine. But I’m holding you to that.” Sam started and it was a pretty silly song.  
  
_ "The ants to marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah _  
_ The ants go marching one by one _  
_ The little one stops to suck her thumb _  
_ And they all go marching down to the ground _  
_ To get out of the rain, bum bum bum" _  


And Steve realised he  _ did  _ know it.

“I know this one!” he interrupted.

“You gonna join in?”

“No. Well, I mean, I know it, but not with these words.” 

“Seriously? The ants have been marching since the 40s? I guess they’re hardworking.”

“It wasn’t ants.” Steve tried to remember, “It was about a soldier coming home. As in, hurrah, this one at least came home, that being a special occasion and all,” he kept his voice purposefully dry and Sam snorted. “I think the Andrews Sisters did a record.”

“I guess it was a big hit if you still remember it,” Sam prompted him.

“Well,” Steve said, and paused, a blush coming up as he remembered. Luckily, Sam couldn’t see his face.

“Oh ho, there’s some story here.” 

“It’s just Farnsworth -- we had a lot of time sometimes, he’d come up with new lyrics and, well.”

“When you say lyrics, you mean  _ dirty  _ lyrics right? Please tell me you were skipping through the Alps singing dirty songs. Tell me that and make my day.”

“Then, Sam, I am delighted to --” He’s cut off by Sam’s whoop of success.

“Amazing. Ok, go for it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just tell me and walk away, it’s your turn to sing.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest and snapped it shut. He supposed it was fair enough.

Steve cleared his throat and tried to remember, but the words were gone. “I don’t remember,” he admitted.

“That’s some bullshit right there.” Sam did not sound impressed.

“No, really!” Steve said. “Farnsworth sang it, I mostly just shouted hurrah at the right moments.” Steve hummed a little. “I think the original said that ‘we’ll all feel gay’ when Johnny came home, so it was something like,

_ “After Johnny has his way _  
_ Surely we will all feel gay _  
_ And we’ll all something something _  
_ When Johnny comes marching home” _  


Steve frowned for a second. “I think he managed to get the word buggery in there. And one of the verses was just about drinking.”

“No doubt. How could you not have a verse about drinking.” 

This was turning into the opposite of what Steve wanted. He didn’t want to think about how this was just the same as every mission he’d done in the war -- same fight, same enemies, same forest. The same mission going forever, just cycling in new people like Sam, tramping through the woods at Steve’s side and happy to reassure him he’s ready to get tortured if need be. 

They walked for a moment in silence, accompanied only by the crunch of pine needles beneath their feet.

“You know what I think?” Sam asked, tone light.

Steve knew a setup when he heard one, so he played along, “No Sam, what do you think?”

“I think if you can’t remember how the words go, we should write some new ones. Update the material for the modern times.”

“You mean, talking about Starkphones and Tinder and the like?” Steve knew how to be a straight man. He’d learned from the originals, listening to George and Gracie every week with Bucky on their cheap radio. He could do a set-up when the occasion called for it.

“ _ Exactly,”  _ Sam said. They’d just finished listing out some of the things ‘ _ a man would do / in order to get some cold brew _ ’ when Sam broke off mid-line to say, “Ooh, waterfall!”

“Yeah Sam,” Steve replied, “a waterfall, very similar to the previous five waterfalls we’ve passed.” And really, the mountains were beautiful, water and trees and rocks everywhere.

“Yes, but this one has a pool at the bottom.” Sam was already stripping out of his wing backpack. “I’m going to wash off some of this Hydra sweat.” 

And then the shirt and pants were off and Sam was under the stream. “Ah! Ok, cold.” The water was sliding down Sam’s chest, parting around his nipples which had already stiffened into peaks.

Then Sam looked up under his lashes, utterly devastating, and said, “You coming?”

Steve jerked his pants open without consciously thinking about it and was gripping the back of Sam’s head not even a moment later.

The water came up to just beneath Steve’s chest and yep, it sure was cold, but Sam’s mouth was hot as Steve licked his way in. They kissed for a long time, until Sam started shivering and Steve drew him back. The edge of the pool was sun-warmed and hip deep and they were both hard. Steve wrapped a hand around both of them and Sam tipped back his head, moaning quietly. Steve leaned and sucked kisses into Sam’s already wet neck.

It didn’t take very long, Steve knew what Sam liked and the euphoria of not dying lasted a while longer than the adrenaline. 

They dried off in the sun lying next to each other, pressed side by side. Some pine needles got stuck to Steve’s butt, tickling him a little. Sam propped himself up on one arm just looking at him, smiling. Steve couldn’t help but smile back; Sam’s smile was infectious.

“What?” Steve asked, tone light.

“Just thinking,” Sam paused for a moment, reaching out a finger to stroke against Steve’s eyebrow. Steve let his eyes drift closed. “Thinking about how lucky I am.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, searching. Sam seemed to be telling the truth. Steve felt a curl of cold come up in his stomach.  _ Lucky?  _ This was never going to end. Sam had given up his country, his reputation, regular contact with his family, and any sort of stability to be with Steve, to serve his mission. Even if he meant it, could he mean it for long?

“Ok. I said something nice and you’re staring at me like your puppy ran away.” Sam nudged him with his shoulder. “You know I have the best job in the world, right? I get to carry the biggest toys, see the world, and kill Nazis. Working with my guy is just a bonus.”

_ Best job.  _ Is that what this was, a job? For Steve, this was war, but the war was supposed to end and someone was supposed to win. Modernity had decided the concept of wars ending was outdated, quaint.  _ Perpetual warfare,  _ one of his books had said. Steve had found that pretty demoralising.

‘Job’ made it sound like...like a series of tasks you did over and over. Steve didn’t know how he felt about that. No one should live like this all the time, right? 

He tried to put some of that into words. Sam listened as he fumbled his way through, nodding. 

“I mean, I guess.” Sam rolled onto his back, needles crunching slightly. “We’re good at this though, right? And it needs doing. There’s always going to be corrupt organisations and bullies with guns. So for me, it is a job -- yeah, I’m using the word. We just gotta find a way that makes it more sustainable so you don’t end up glaring at a picturesque view like you wish you could set a pine tree on fire with the power of your mind. And maybe it is a lot of stress on the three of us, we do run more high risk missions than the average operative. But that probably just means we should take more vacations.” Sam propped himself back up to fully appreciate the look of incomprehension Steve was wearing.

Steve had never thought about a vacation. It wasn’t like his family could summer in the Hamptons.

“Yes, Steve, vacations. And lying down here for five minutes doesn’t count. I’m talking full days of relaxation, drinks with umbrellas in them, that sort of thing.” Sam warmed to the subject. “In fact, full resort experience. I want to see you with flowers in your hair, shirt with no buttons done, speedo, wearing flip flops.” Steve felt a smile tugging at his lips involuntarily. “See? There you go, even the  _ idea  _ is doing you wonders.” His voice goes musing, “I wonder if Wakanda has a beach.” 

Steve imagined T’Challa in the outfit Sam is describing and started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. Sam tried to maintain a serious expression, but he was a weaker straight man than Steve and joined him in laughing.

Eventually they realised they should probably get a move on. He stood up and reached for his shirt, and then his shorts which had seemed to have migrated just a little further to the left. He leaned a little to get it, which is when Steve immediately slipped on a rock. Sam grabbed him. 

“I’ve got you,” Sam said, steadying him.

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling at him, “you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story happened due to over-googling. I just wanted to confirm if Steve could have possibly heard 'The Ants Go Marching,' found out that it's a song that goes back to the American Civil War, with a special 1940s version and several wikipedia pages and youtube videos later, this story was born.


End file.
